


The Right Way to an O

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drabble Sequence, First Time, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Library Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy is given that troll of a Slytherin to tutor: Marcus Flint. He makes sure Marcus gets his O.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Way to an O

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teas_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teas_me/gifts).



> For my darling teas_me who said "write a Marcus/Percy PWP!" when I needed 200 words to make goal. Here are 700 words for you, hon! Also thank you to the lovely ladies of chatzy who gave me prompts when I asked. I used "library" and "cookies" here.
> 
> My assumption is that they are both of age. Also, I don't own the world or characters of Harry Potter; I just like to play with them.

Percy sits in the library, his legs tucked back beneath the chair, lips pursed as his quill scratches across the parchment. He glances up when the other chair is pulled out, gaze narrowing. “Flint.”

“Weasley.” Flint sits back, his robes askew, tie half undone. He crosses his arms, looking at Percy, square jaw set and ice blue eyes narrowed. “They told me you would make sure I passed my NEWTs this time around. So start teaching.”

Percy sighs heavily. When he offered to tutor, this wasn’t what he expected. “Very well. Open your Charms to page thirty. We’ll begin there.”

#

They meet every Tuesday at ten, and every Thursday at three. Percy is surprised to find that Flint is intelligent but has difficulty reading long blocks of text. He begins to painstakingly write out notes, working with Flint to create study guides in color with particular key words. 

Flint memorizes them easily; once he knows the concept and can perform the spell, he never forgets.

Percy finds he enjoys this. If he looks past the scent of ink and parchment, it is almost like having a friend. Flint brings cookies filched from the kitchens.

They eat, they talk. Flint learns.

#

They move from sitting across the table from each other to sitting side by side, sequestered in a back corner of the library. They dissect Charms over cookies and work Transfiguration while nibbling at cakes. Flint offers a butterbeer he smuggled in, and Percy shares it, laughing when the foam covers his upper lip.

Flint silences the sound with a kiss, tongue licking the foam away.

Percy can’t breathe, his heart racing. He starts to say something, and Flint whispers, “Shh. It’s the library. Can’t talk.” Then he kisses the words away.

There’s no point in arguing; Percy likes it.

#

Flint drops a scroll on the table; Percy unrolls it to find the essay Flint painstakingly wrote for Charms with a brightly marked O at the top. “Brilliant,” he whispers, hand on Flint’s thigh as he kisses in congratulations.

They move closer, mouth against mouth, Percy leaning into him. His hands slide up, pushing aside Flint’s robes, rucking them up until the fabric pools under his hands.

He feels a ridge there, hidden by the fabric, hears the moan when his fingers brush against it.

Percy pulls back, face flushed.

Flint takes his hand and slides it under his robes.

#

Percy swears his heart stops as he feels that hard length with only Flint’s pants separating his prick from his hand. He presses the heel of his hand down, stroking.

“Get on your knees.”

Percy barely hears the whisper, but he slides from the chair, moving between Flint’s spread legs. He rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of Flint’s pants, then slowly draws it down, baring that lovely prick.

Flint frames Percy’s face with his hands, meeting his eyes as he whispers, “Suck it.”

The first taste is musk and salt. Percy takes too much, gags, and tries again.

#

It doesn’t take long. Percy struggles at first with a prick in his mouth. He has too many teeth and not enough tongue, and Flint is long enough to touch the back of his throat. But he keeps trying until he sets a rhythm, and Flint doesn’t argue his inadequacies.

Flint slumps in the chair, hips rocking, his fingers threaded in Percy’s hair. Percy can watch him, see that moment when his hips roll, when he struggles to stay silent. 

Percy loves this.

There’s no warning when he comes; Percy tries to swallow, trails of white dripping to the floor.

#

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then looks at the sticky threads. One eyebrow arches, and Percy says primly, “This would be an appropriate moment for a cleaning charm.”

Flint grins and does so, his wand work perfect now. Percy has been a good influence.

As Percy finds his chair again, Flint lets his robes drop to cover himself, then claims a kiss. It is lazy and slow, and Percy luxuriates in the way Flint strokes his hair, touches his face. 

“This is the way to properly celebrate an O,” Flint murmurs.

Percy has to agree.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Right Way to an O](https://archiveofourown.org/works/896755) by [teas_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teas_me/pseuds/teas_me)




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